


Truth or Dare

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar
Genre: Embarrassing Past Escapades, Gen, Possible Future Relationship, awkward confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 17:58:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18266513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: It had all begun as just a bit of fun—four people playing an innocent social game in June’s elegant parlor. Then it got very interesting and a bit convoluted as unexpected bits of truth spilled out.





	Truth or Dare

It was late one Friday evening, and Peter was giving Neal a ride home to Riverside Drive. There was a reason for his generous gesture. Neal had been working on a series of sketches of two suspects that Diana and Jones had been tailing the last few weeks. The junior agents had obtained a montage of telephoto shots, and Neal was coalescing them into images of distinct faces that were sharp and could be easily recognizable.

Neal used his key to let himself and Peter into the foyer of the mansion. He had only taken just a few steps when June’s voice rang out from the adjacent parlor. “Hello, Darling!”

Neal smiled and turned. “Hey, June.”

Peter suddenly materialized behind the young man and added his own greeting, “Good Evening, June.”

“Agent Burke,” June waved regally with a hand holding a cigarette in a long, stylish holder. “Why don’t you two gentleman join us. We’re having a little nightcap.”

When Peter peered into the room, he realized that “we” included Mozzie. He noted that there was a martini glass with the obligatory olive in front of the lady of the house, and a 2/3 empty bottle of Bordeaux in front of her guest. Peter also detected the cloying scent of what he knew was a controlled substance.

June observed his frown and smiled serenely. “I have medical issues, Darling, so this is therapeutic and just what the doctor ordered,” she purred. “Because I’m in a good mood, I may even deign to let you peruse my prescription.”

“Written by Dr. Caffrey, no doubt,” Peter said with a cynical little smirk.

June’s face suddenly looked sorrowful. “It must cause you great discomfort to continually sustain so much suspicion, Agent Wingtips.”

“Yeah,” Mozzie piped up, “that’s why he’s always scowling. He has constipated chakras and his chi is blocked.”

Peter ignored the annoying little gnome as he made his excuse for a fast exit. “I’m just stopping in briefly to pick up some papers.”

However, June wasn’t having it. “Nonsense, Peter, you must sit for a few minutes. Mozzie and I won’t pick on you anymore.”

“C’mon, Peter,” Neal cajoled, “just one drink to be social and then you can be on your way. Elizabeth’s out of town doing that anniversary party, so you don’t need to be in a big rush.”

Well, okay,” Peter finally agreed. He was even more agreeable when he discovered that June had some expensive imported beer in her refrigerator that made Heisler’s look like a poor trailer trash relative. In a matter of minutes, he was comfortably kicked back on the brocaded sofa amicably rubbing shoulders with his CI.

Neal had taken note of the deck of cards on the marble coffee table. “Were you guys in the middle of a poker game?” he asked curiously.

“No, Darling, it wasn’t poker,” June replied. “We were playing _Truth or Dare_ —at least our version of it which differs slightly from the original premise. We were simply using the cards to cut the deck to see who got to take a turn.”

In the back of Peter’s mind, the “suspicious” agent was conjuring up images of two diabolical charlatans plotting intricate nefarious capers. He valiantly fought the urge to roll his eyes but he had to ask, “How does your version of the game differ from the legitimate one?”

“Well, the original rules state that a person can either ask an opponent a question or dare him to perform an action,” June explained.  “In our game, we only ask truth questions because neither Mozzie nor I are in any condition to do anything daring at this juncture.”

“Speak for yourself, My Good Lady,” Mozzie slurred. “Some of my best work was done when I was three sheets to the wind.”

“You must be so proud,” Peter muttered under his breath, and he noticed Neal’s mouth quirk at the corner. Actually, the FBI agent was grateful that nobody was going to be daring Neal to do _anything_.

June ignored Mozzie’s comment and her expression was suddenly sly. “Considering present company, perhaps our game should take on a new theme. I think it may be fun to relate some embarrassing scenarios from our pasts to keep things light and entertaining.”

Neal smiled fondly. “June, I certainly can’t imagine a sophisticated and gracious lady such as yourself ever finding herself in an awkward situation.”

June ignored Mozzie’s snort and turned to her charming boarder, “Oh, Darling, I was always a foxy lady starting with my salad days, but even I managed a few missteps from time to time. Let me take the first turn in our game to set the mood while I regale you with one of my silly mishaps.”

June certainly had everyone’s complete attention as she began her tale. “As a young and much slimmer ingenue, I was what people called a looker. In other words, I was sizzling hot. Now, the place to go during the days of prohibition was _The Cotton Club_ in Harlem. It's popularity continued well into the 1940s. It was a Whites-Only establishment, but the entertainers were talented African Americans like Duke Ellington and Cab Calloway, to name just a few. The girls in the chorus line were also Women of Color—tall, willowy, and light-skinned. I was one such chorus girl whom men came to ogle as I shimmied in my skimpy spangled outfit and danced the Charleston.

Now, I should point out that everybody who was part of a snobbish social circle eventually found their way to that nightclub to watch the show. On one particular night, there I was with my red fringe flying and my feet a blur when the heel of one of my shoes tore away. I suddenly felt myself being catapulted off the stage into the audience. I had a soft landing, however, because I came to rest on the lap of a man sitting at a ringside table. That evening we had been graced with the presence of the then New York mayor, handsome James Walker, who unexpectedly found himself with his hands full of sweet brown sugar!”

June’s rapt audience smiled widely, but it was Mozzie who began giggling hysterically. Clearly he was seriously intoxicated as he crowed, “Even way back in the day, Miz Ellington, you sure knew how to make a grand entrance!”

“Moz, how much wine have you actually consumed?” Neal asked as he eyed the almost empty Bordeaux in his friend’s hand. Mozzie had, at this point, foregone the use of a glass and was guzzling directly from the bottle.

“Ya can’t ask a truth question, mon frère, ‘cause it isn’t your turn. Ya gotta play by the rules and cut the deck first. If you get the high card, then you can know stuff,” the suddenly self-righteous man replied smugly.

“Have you ever truly played by the rules, Haversham?” Peter asked cynically, causing Mozzie to begin sputtering indignantly.

“Now, boys, calm down and play nice with each other,” June said in a placating tone as she began shuffling the deck.

After everyone had chosen a card, June’s ace of spades trumped all. She turned to Neal with raised eyebrows. “Your turn to bare your soul, Darling.”

Neal was thoughtful. “I can’t actually relate a grand entrance to rival yours, June, but I can recall a rather dramatic and spectacular exit.”

Suddenly, Peter was very interested in hearing the details.

“This happened quite a while ago when the whole world was my oyster and I wasn’t tethered to a claustrophobic two miles in the Big Apple,” Neal began his story. “I was staying at the magnificent Peninsula Hotel in Kowloon at the time, just across Victoria Harbor from Hong Kong.”

“What exactly were you doing there?” Peter immediately wanted to know.

“ _Suit, you can’t interrupt a participant with more questions! You have to play by the rules!”_ Mozzie chided sharply, causing Peter to hold up his hands in surrender.

However, Neal was feeling magnanimous, so he did answer Peter’s query in an evasive and Caffrey-like way. “I was visiting with some friends,” he said calmly, "and those friends were quite happy to see me. Actually, they were extremely delighted, and to show their pleasure, they arranged for me to meet two more friends in the city. So, one evening, just before my departure from the Orient, I took the Star Ferry across the harbor to make the acquaintance of two sisters. They were beautiful twins who had previously performed in one of the many Cirque du Soleil extravaganzas. Those young ladies were very welcoming and accommodating, and they showed me some nubile acrobatic moves that defied the imagination. It was a quite stimulating evening, but then one of their boyfriends showed up unexpectedly and that resulted in me making a less than graceful exit out a window and down a fire escape wearing nothing but a bright pink kimono. You can’t exactly blend in on the streets attired like that, and before I made it back to my hotel, I had netted three propositions by some hulking and very eager young studs.”

While Peter rolled his eyes, June laughed in sheer delight and uttered a rousing, “Bravo!”

When the deck was again shuffled, Neal’s king of hearts was the high card, and he gazed at Mozzie fondly. “I think we need to hear your story, Moz, while you’re still coherent enough to string two words together.”

“For your edification, Neal, I am merely _mellow_ and quite far from blotto. Therefore, everyone should sit up and pay close attention,” the little bald man smirked.

“Far back in history to a time when I was just a callow youth but with a full head of hair, I still maintained a steadfast interest in the political arena. That was also a time of naivete for me before I realized that the evil government establishment was ultimately going to rule the world by employing slick underhanded tactics from their nasty bag of tricks.

Well, imagine my horror when I became aware of a possible catastrophic upheaval in progress in Louisiana. In 1990, during the middle of George H. Bush’s term in office, there were numerous interim elections going on throughout the United States. The Democrats were hoping to gain a majority in Congress. One very close race was between Louisiana’s incumbent Democrat, J. Bennett Johnson, Jr., and another candidate. Johnson was up against a very popular Republican State Representative named David Duke, a former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan. That misanthrope had attracted quite a bit of attention and support because of his stance on race and his involvement with white supremacist groups as well as his appeal to white resentment over affirmative-action programs. I knew I had to do my duty and be proactive.

So, I took myself down to the Big Easy and finagled an invitation to a campaign fund-raising rally. I had come prepared with a bogus $100,000 check to increase the despicable bigot’s war chest. Of course, that gesture of good faith got me an up close and personal glad-handing audience with the man of the hour. I had an agenda when we had our meeting. As I previously mentioned, I had come prepared—not just with funny money but also with some microdots of LSD that I dissolved into a glass of champagne that I intended to offer him. I wanted that clown to start hallucinating and make a disgraceful fool out of himself before all of his adoring sycophants. I even may have leaked a tantalizing tidbit to the local media that something interesting was in the works for the event."

Mozzie then heaved a pitiful sigh, “Unfortunately, when I offered the odious dude the bubbly, everything went off the rails. Somehow, I wound up with the doctored drink instead of him. I swear, I never saw the switch, but I’m convinced that bastard could have run a Three-Card-Monty scam, no sweat.”

“So, did _you_ wind up making a fool out of yourself that night?” Neal asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not sure,” Mozzie admitted. “I could never recall any embarrassing antics on my part, although I’m certain something happened that got me ejected from the party. All I can remember is finding myself sitting on a curb and cuddling a big, strapping security guard. I was actually stroking his back and calling him, _My Sweet Precious Mozart_.”

“If I recall my history,” Neal said comfortingly, “Duke lost that election, so it was really a win for the good guys, Moz.”

“Good guys?” Peter said incredulously. “How can you two criminals ever consider yourselves to be the _good guys_?” That remark made Mozzie glare at the G-man, and June quickly shuffled the cards again.

The lady of the house drew another ace as did Neal. Peter was holding a lowly trey, but Mozzie had pulled a joker. “Ha!” he crowed jubilantly, “the joker is a wild card and makes me top dog. I pick you, Mr. Supercilious Suit, to spill _your_ guts! We’re all ears.”

“Fair enough,” Peter replied grudgingly, as he began his embarrassing story. “Just like all of your yarns, this happened in the past, actually over ten years ago. El and I had finally bought a house in Brooklyn and we hadn’t even had time to unpack everything. There was still stuff that we needed to buy, but we did manage to acquire a rather exuberant new puppy. I have to add a very salient fact at this point because it’s the lynchpin of the whole sad saga. My wife and I hadn’t yet met any of our neighbors because we were still busy unloading boxes.

One Saturday morning, El took herself off to the city to buy curtains or something, and my assignment was to adjust the television dish on the roof to improve the spotty reception. I put on my toolbelt and added a screwdriver, a hammer, a chisel, and a wrench and leaned a ladder up against the back of the house. I fiddled with the dish and then came back down to check the picture on the tube. That’s when I found that I had locked myself out when I had hurriedly pushed a rambunctious puppy back behind the kitchen door. Now I was screwed, and I had to figure out a way back in. So, I climbed back up the ladder to a bathroom window on the second floor and was in the process of starting to jimmy it open when two of New York’s finest were suddenly gazing up at me and demanding that I come down to their level. Apparently, our next door neighbor had called them to report an attempted burglary in progress.

Of course, I had no ID on me and I couldn’t get into the house to get it, so I was roughly handcuffed and plunked down in the back of a squad car. I wound up at the local precinct demanding my phone call. Unfortunately, El had her cell on vibrate, so she never heard the frantic plea for help. I had to leave a friggin’ voice mail. It was hours before El listened to her messages and came down to straighten it all out.”

“Hot damn!” Mozzie cried out in delight. “The Suit actually spent time in the hoosegow. How appropriate! Did it make you feel humiliated and besmirched?”

Peter frowned. “No, the humiliation and disdainful attitude came later when El discovered that an unmonitored Satchmo had chewed through her beloved Manolo Blahnik stilettoes that she had bought with her very first paycheck,” he admitted morosely. “It took me a long time to get out from under that dark cloud. So, Haversham, have you got a smart-mouthed little zinger comment for that?”

Haversham wasn’t answering, and when the trio of other players looked his way, they realized the problem. Mozzie had finally surrendered to the inevitable. His head was now lolling back on the chaise lounge and his mouth hung open making him look like he was trying to catch flies. His only response was a very startling and loud snore.

“Well, he’s down for the count,” June commented. “And I think I’ll take myself away from all this titillating pleasure as well. I suddenly have a case of the munchies, and there’s a cheesecake in the refrigerator calling my name. Would anyone care to join me?”

Both Neal and Peter declined the offer and bid their hostess goodnight. “So, now it’s just you and me, Peter,” Neal said softly. “Do you want to continue confessing silly things, or we could change it up and begin asking each other some probing questions while daring the responder to reply truthfully?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “That’s very tempting, Buddy, but somehow I don’t think I’ll ever get a turn to ask a question. Thanks to three card sharks’ sleight of hand, that deck has been stacked against me from the beginning and I should have known better. There’s probably more than 52 cards in play because I’ve counted at least three aces of clubs and four aces of hearts.”

“Well, if you want to make things fair, we could do rock, paper, scissors,” Neal suggested.

Peter wondered what the con man had up his sleeve—probably something akin to Mozzie’s wild card. Nonetheless, he was intrigued. “Sure, let’s do it,” he agreed.

Neal’s paper covered Peter’s rock, so he was the inquisitor. “Just one question, Peter, and I dare you to answer honestly.”

“I’m listening,” Peter said as he held his breath.

“Are you ever going to confess to Elizabeth that you want to have sex with me?” Neal whispered out of the blue.

“Well, Neal,” Peter murmured softly as he stared into the con man’s unblinking blue eyes, “maybe I already have told her that very thing. I _dare_ you to go up to your loft with me so that you can find out what she advised me to do about it.”


End file.
